The Cullen wears Armarni
by BlueHeart1995
Summary: Edwards a manwhore with commitment issues, and Bella's a girl with a haunting past. Will Bella be able to break through Edward's tough exterior whilst helping herself overcome her worst fears? And is there more to Edwards's family than meets the eye? AH


_**The Cullen wears Armani**_

**Summary: Edwards a manwhore with commitment issues, and Bella's a girl with a haunting past. Will Bella be able to break through Edward's tough exterior whilst helping herself overcome her worst fears? And is there more to Edwards's family than meets the eye? AH. OOC. BxE. Cannon pairings. **

**DISCLAIMER: **_**sadly I own none of these characters, SM does and what a lucky bitch she is! Some characters will be added to fill the story or for my own personal pleasure, but most aren't mine. **_

**You might've not noticed yet... but I'm not XJasperSaysRelaxX but if you want to know why I'm writing this now, check out my profile for the main reason. **

**You'll probably guess from the title that it's slightly similar to 'The Devil Wears Prada' and Edward is similar to Daniel Meade in the first few series' of Ugly Betty. I won't make this story a repeat of both shows/movies but some things are inspired by them! **

**And yes, I'm british so sorry for any American readers for different, words, grammar or spellings!**

'_Daddy-o, you've got the swagger of a champion  
>Too bad for you, you just can't find the right companion<br>I guess when you have one too many, makes it hard, it could be easy  
>Who you are, that's just who you are, baby'<em>

_Britney Spears - Womanizer_

"I'm close. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I chanted before spilling my load into the receptionist's mouth and down her throat.

My hands were tightly wrapped up in her hair and when I had reached my climax, I stopped her head movements which meant applying pressure to her head with my fingers. She was used to my roughness towards women during any kind of sexual activity. Her own hands were placed either side of my outer thighs, almost resting on my ass cheeks.

Once I was certain that I had finished and that she had swallowed everything, I released my grip of her head and pulled myself from her mouth. She closed her mouth and smirked up at me while wiping her mouth and getting back up off her knees as I put myself back in my pants and zipping up.

"Do you need anything else Mr Cullen?" She asked politely. Her eyes were screaming for me to return the favour, but part of her knew that you have to be really special to have the favour returned. And she isn't special to me, not even close.

"No, thank you. That will be everything." I said, dismissing her by waving my hand in the air while turning away from her to walk back behind my desk.

She let out a loud huff of irritation before walking out of the door and slamming it on the way out. Her anger didn't faze me because to me, she was basically a willing participant in my sex toy collection of women - and she knew this.

Since my personal assistant had left for medical reasons, which means that my day is going to be filled with countless interviews with women and gay men all thinking that they're perfect for the job of being my P.A at Cullen Magazine. Not once has a straight man walked through the doors of Cullen Magazine for a P.A interview, because it was generally classed as a women's or gay man's job.

Interviews weren't scheduled to start for another hour, meaning I had an hour to kill, which is also how I ended up with my cock in the receptionists mouth to pass ten minutes. So I decided to check my emails since I had no P.A to do it for me. It had been months since I'd checked my own emails, so I didn't have a clue what was trash and what was important.

INBOX – 162 UNREAD EMAILS

The 162 emails scared me, but it also made sense to go through them all to kill the next fifty minutes or so.

PeachyPeaches – Please attend our charity auction this Saturday, 7pm at Manhattan Town Hall. All proceeds go to... Delete.

Juicy Couture- Dear Mr Cullen, as The Editor In Chief of Cullen Co, we'd like to invite you to our upcoming fashion show in Brooklyn this month where all the upcoming designers... Delete.

Gucci – Dear the Editor In Chief of Cullen Co, Gucci would like to formally invite you to our charity banquet taking place at the Plaza Hotel this Autumn which will be a fun night for everybody and a free gift bag will be given to all the attendee's. There will also be an open bar... Keep. Free Bar.

FLASHDANCERSNYC – Dear Edward, as a registered member of FLASHDANCERSNCY we'd like to let you know about our upcoming strip parties and events... definitely keep.

Most of my emails were just invitations to parties and events out of the 162 emails, I only kept 17. Reading through all my emails successfully killed an hour of my time, which meant that it was time for the dreaded interviews.

Unlike most employers, I don't take notes on an applicant's qualifications or skills, instead I take notes on their appearance and indigence – after all this is the fashion world and it is mainly about looks. But the downside was that I wasn't allowed to employ anybody without consulting with my father first and scanning through the headshots of the many applicants who all think that they're perfect for the job. It was a long and hard task, and my dad usually picks the borderline fuck-able ones, since he's sometimes on the same wavelength as me, but most of the time he's on the 'I'm a married man so I rate girls on their fuckability like I used to, also who would be a good choice so that my son won't want to fuck her brains out?' wavelength.

To be honest, I prefer my father on my wavelength, because at least then I get a good fuck out of my employee's. My father understands that, because before he met my mother, he was exactly the same. But now he decided to be a tight bastard, it's like he's my pussy patrol officer.

I dialled the receptionist and told her to send the first applicant in. The first applicant was a tall woman, maybe 5ft9, give or take a few inches. I'd say that she was roughly a size four - the average size of the applicants. She had long straight blonde hair that reached the lower part of her back, falling just above the hem of her 6inch black skirt. As for her face, well she had a face that I would happily shoot my load over. Her tits however, were telling me a different story; they were the size of two small oranges, which put almost put me off. Overall I'd give her a 5, 6 at a push.

"Hey! I'm Holly," she said chirpily. Her voice just knocked her down to a definite 5, there was no long the possibility of a 7. "How d'ya do?" and she's from Texas, and I already have a Texan friend in my life; Jasper. You only need one Texas friend to see you though life.

"Hi, take a seat." I said guiding my hand towards the leather chair in front of my desk. "Now, what makes you think that you're right for this job?" I asked, trying to seem interested but instead I was starting at her tits and trying to work out why they were so small. I only asked her about her experience etc so she didn't find out about my personal marking system.

"Well, obviously because of my size, I'm perfect for the industry. Being a size four," Ah, I was correct, "helped me incredibly with my gymnastics career that I had to give up due to health issues," so she's a gymnast, that makes sense. Alice used to be a gymnast and she started puberty late because of it, I wonder if Holly was only just reaching puberty after giving up gymnastics. "The size helped me improve as a gymnast but then I found my love for fashion, and I was hooked. Every night I would flick through magazines such as Vogue, People, Vanity Faire, Bazaar and of course, Cullen Co. I'd wish that I was one of those models and by becoming your P.A I thought that it would help me up the ladder to becoming a model for Cullen Co." So she didn't answer the question directly, but she had the same dream as everyone else; become my P.A so she can hopefully make it as a successful model by receiving a good recommendation letter from me as her employer.

"Great, well we'll be in touch." I said, simply bored by her excessive talking. She was definitely off the maybe list and straight on to the 'No change in hell' list because of her habit to ramble on.

She seemed slightly upset about my lack of interest so she left the same way the receptionist had done earlier on; in a huff. If only I cared.

The next applicant was only slightly better than the last –

Jenifer

Body – 9

Tits – 7

Hair -6 (VERY SHORT AND BRIGHT PINK WITH BLUE BITS)

Face – 8

Voice – 7

Fuckable - 7

Overall – 7

Then there was –

Louisa

Body – 9

Tits – 8

Hair – 8

Face – 8

Voice – 9

Fuckable - 8

Overall – 8

The next applicant took me by surprise; she wasn't like all the other girls. She didn't come dressed in mini-skirts that left nothing to the imagination, or crop tops that showed off her navel with her face plastered in fake tan and makeup, instead she was... normal – not my usual type. Even though she had blood red lipstick on and smoky black eyes, she was still sexy, but once again, not my type. But even though she was only dressed in grey skinny jeans, which made her look divine, along with a baggy blue top which made her stomach look bigger than it was, she still looked sexy. And the one thing that had my cock on the verge of reaching going back in time to the stone-age was her knee high black boots.

If we were ever to do the dirty, she would be naked apart from those boots...they can stay...

She wasn't the kinda girl I would normally go for and if it was between her and a bleach blonde model, I would pick the model. She's the kinda girl who looks like she spends her free time reading books and listening to classical music whilst spending time with her family, and that's not me, well it's not this Edward, maybe the old Edward would've been down one knee by now with a ring in a blue velvet box for her. But the old Edward is in the past now, he was put in a paddle boat and pushed away into the open waters, gone forever.

She had some puppy fat on her, but nothing a bit of exercise couldn't fix. If she was picked as my P.A she would be ripped to shreds by the other female employers who eat less calories than their mental age and shoe size add up to all because she's not tanned, bleach blonde, size six, either anorexic or bulimic, intelligent and not a model. It was sad really, but that's the fashion world.

"Hi, I'm Isabella Swan, but everybody calls me Bella." She smiled, offered her hand out for me to shake. I shook her hand out of politeness and interviewed people like every other employer; I would've given her marks for politeness and pleasantness.

"Hi, I'm-" I didn't have chance to introduce myself, not that I should have to because more than likely everybody knows who I am, because Bella raised her hand to cut me off.

"Oh I know who you are," that's more like it, "My sister is quite the fan of the fashion world. Cullen Co is classed as the Holy Grail in her eyes. Growing up surrounded by fashion, you learn a few things, and people. So yeah, I know who you are." She laughed nervously.

"Well, at least you know who I am; otherwise I'd be calling security to remove you. Moving on, I guess you're qualified for the job so we'll be in touch at a later date. Thanks for coming." I said before turning back my attention back to my laptop. I knew that she would be pissed off at my shortness with her, but who gives a fuck.

It was only a few minutes after she left that I remembered to make my notes about her.

Isabella

Body – 6

Tits – 7

Hair – 7

Face – 8

Voice – 8

Fuckable - 5

Overall – 7

The body score wasn't anything personal; it was just down to the fact that she's obviously not a size 8 or below and she doesn't have a tan like most girls in the fashion industry. Oh, and she's not my type.

After Isabella, I interviewed roughly another fifteen to twenty people before calling it a day and taking the elevator up to my dad's office on the twenty-first floor. Compared to my office, my father's office was a dark place, filled with dimmed lights and red and black furniture. It wouldn't surprise me if he had a sex dungeon through a secret passage in his wardrobe, or a shit tonne of sex slaves locked up in a secret room somewhere in his office. He maybe a married man, but I wouldn't put it past him after the many sex scandals that have made it to the press.

When I entered my dad's office, he was sat on his large black leather chair at his oversized desk whilst holding up two photographs from this month's L.A Shoot for the magazine. I knew that it was important and that he was selecting the photo for the front cover since he was wearing his thick rimmed black glasses whilst grimacing at the photographs in his hands.

Maybe it would be better if I came back later to avoid disturbing him but fuck it, he used to wake me up early on a morning for the fun of it, payback time I think.

"Good afternoon Edward," he said without even looking up from his work. Fuck, well that ruined my plan of pack back. Looks like I'm going to have to think out my plans a bit more next time. But how did he know it was me without even seeing me?

"How did you know it was me?" I said in disbelief. I took a seat in his push red sofa by the electric fireplace and waited for him to finish his work with the cover shoot photos.

"There's only one man in this building other than myself who wears Christian Louboutin shoes to work. Now, A or B?" he asked. I knew what system he was using, in his head one photo as A and the other B and whichever I picked, would the cover for the magazine.

"B," I said simply knowing that A was always the photo he least liked and that he was hoping I'd pick B.

"Good choice, so the next cover is going to be from the photo shoot in Milan. Well now that's finished, I can get Tracy to get a mock cover printed and sent down to the printers. But moving on, what can I do for you?" he said whilst turning to face me and taking off his thick lenses.

"Well I've finished today's interviews for a new PA and I've brought down my notes for you to pick my PA but I don't understand why I can't do it myself since it's my PA, hence the 'MY' part." I said trying to avoid looking at him.

"Stop acting like a fucking child, you know why I don't let you pick your PA. If I let you pick she'd never get any work done because you'd be all over he, and I'm not having my business go down the drain just beaus you saw something to stick your dick in, maybe you should take your mothers advice and hang up the playboy boots and get a girlfriend. It's about time you committed yourself to something other than work, sometimes." he said sternly.

"I am committed; to making sure that the ladies of New York don't go dry. I have a reputation to uphold and do you seriously think I'll keep up that reputation if I got a girlfriend?" I said. Out of everybody, I thought my father would understand since he used to be the same when he was my age.

"I'm just saying that maybe it's about time that you act your age and get some stability in your life. All I ever read about in the papers is your latest sex scandals, or whose girlfriend or wife you've been spotted with. It's embarrassing for your mother and I, your mother nearly dies of embarrassment every time she finds you in the paper. Every day she dreads opening up the paper or walking through town after you've been shamed by the papers." He explained whilst shaking his head.

The hypocritical bastard. Over the past five years he must've been in the papers more than once every month or two for being spotted with another woman, or roaming the streets drunk at four in the morning. How is that any different from me choosing to be a bachelor enjoying single life?

"Just because I don't go to bed at night wearing a dressing gown and read the paper, or spend my time with my head buried in a book doesn't mean that I don't care about how people perceive me. I live life by the day because who knows, the world could end tomorrow and I don't want my last day on earth to be a waste of time. And I'm sorry if I'm not as perfect as my pain in the ass step-brother, but maybe if I had a better role model, I would've turned out differently." I said whilst running my hand through my hair. _That reminds me, I need to get my new PA - when I get one – to set up a hair conditioning treatment with Maxine. Need to keep my hair in good condition, because I don't want to develop premature hair loss. _

"A better role model? Is that a petty jab at me by any chance?" he said sarcastically.

"Well I'm obviously not going to aspire to be like my mom now am I?"

"Oh, so I'm not a good role model? You really don't make any sense; I own multi-billion dollar company, have a child who graduated from Harvard Medical School and another son who is next in lime to run this company. I'm married to a woman who had been chosen as Miss America for three years running. I've provided everything I can for my family, from a five star education to the latest clothes and crazes. Tell me one thing that doesn't fit your 'perfect role model' requirements." He grumbled sounding rather irritated. Good.

"Well let's see, the child you sent to Harvard Medical School is also the child that you had outside your marriage to my mom. My mom being the woman who only won the first year of the Miss America pageant because the other woman in the finale had a car crash and ended up in a coma, which instantly made my mom the winner. A five star education? I was sent to an all boy's school where we were taught that women were the devils spawn and we shouldn't treat them as equals, oh and my gym teacher was later revealed to be a paedophile. And then we're back to you. You were out drinking all the time, I can remember every Christmas you getting in such a drunken state you could barely stand and one year you fell into the Christmas tree, on Christmas eve. Then there's the affairs, the countless affairs over the years of my life, who knows, I could have more half siblings dotted around the many states of America. Need I go on?" I said with a smirk, knowing I'd obviously won this argument.

"Well I'm sorry I don't live up to your standards, but I've made a lot of bad decisions that I'm not proud of and now I'm paying the price but I really don't need you on my case. Just remember who the father is and who the son in this relationship is. But there is no way in my lifetime you are picking your own assistant, but what I will do is narrow it down to two and you can choose out of my two options. Deal?" he offered as a plea bargain. It was the closest thing I was getting to independence over my PA. Instead of replying I just nodded, dropped the notes on his desk and walked out of his office. Maybe I wasn't gonna be granted the right to pick my own PA just yet, but hell I could act like a moody twat for the hell of it.

"Goodbye son!" I heard him shout, slightly amused, as I left the room.

I headed back into my office to find Rosalie perched on my desk wearing nothing but a closed red Mac and black leather boots. She wanted something. And she wanted it now.

"Good afternoon Rosalie, and what can I do for you today?" I smirked, trying to prize my eyes away from those boots. They were like Christmas and chocolate rolled into one.

"What makes you think I want something?" she pouted whilst running her hands through her loose blonde curls that were falling like waves over her shoulders. "Cant a girl visit their favourite boss every once in a while?"

"Rosalie, I'm your brother in-law and you're somebody who knows my one weakness; leather boots. So you thought you'd use that to your advantage to get what you want from me." I said simply. Rosalie was easy to read, but hard to understand because she doesn't do anything at half measures. I don't understand why she couldn't just ask me whatever she wanted, instead she chooses to dress in knee-high leather boots, a red Mac opened at the top to reveal just enough cleavage to make me hard with her blonde curls flowing down her back. Most women would just ask. But not Rosalie.

"Am I that transparent?" she pouted, "But I need you to increase the budget for the November shoot, we don't have enough to pay for Michael Wilson to fly over from Australia _and _pay for venue at the Plaza whilst covering the costs for the make-up artists and everything else. I tried to speak to your dad but he's still not talking to me after last week's dinner, I can't understand why he's still pissed at me. It's not like I intentionally smashed the vase in the front room, it was an accident, and how was I supposed to know it was a vase he'd bought from England in the eighties?" She shrugged, raising her hand to inspect her perfectly manicured nails.

For my mom's birthday, my father invited all of our close family and friends over for a 'sophisticated' meal and drinks, and since Rosalie is his daughter-in-law, he had to invite her. But by eleven in the evening, everybody was rather merry; especially Rosalie and Emmett who decided play tag inside the house. Well in the end my father's vase, which he had bought from England when he lived there for three years, was smashed. He wasn't very impressed and since last Friday night, he hasn't said a word to Rosalie.

"Fine, I'll raise it by half what it already is, but don't come running to me when it runs out because when it's gone, it's gone. I can't keep giving you budget advances because soon the other departments will want advances and then we'll be down thousands. So like before, tell your minions to keep their mouths shut otherwise I'll be in some deep shit with my dad." I warned her sternly. She knew how serious I was and that I wasn't kidding when I said I'd be in deep shit. And I'd probably lose my job here, even if we are family.

"Heard and understood, thanks Edward!" she said hopping down off my desk to give me a kiss on the cheek before running out of my room. I turned to watch her leave so I could watch her ass, _and get one last look at those boots...,_ she knew I'd be watching so she purposely wiggled her ass to make me weak at the knees.

Since I had no meetings scheduled till four, I decided to head out into the city to get my own lunch, for once. I wasn't sure where to go for lunch, so I just grabbed the first person I saw in the hallway and asked them where the best place to eat was. Apparently a little place called _Bella Italia _is the best place to eat at the moment, so I guess that's where I'm eating.

I made sure to let everybody know that I was leaving the office so nobody came looking for me before leaving. Since it was October, the weather was turning quite nasty which meant the return of my black winter coat. Nothing beats winter though, it gives me more reason to get close to women because most women in winter want to relish in the comfort of a man to keep them warm, and that's what I'll do.

It took me a while to find the place, but when I did, I was shocked. I expected to find a small rundown backstreet cafe, but what I found was the complete opposite; a rather large restaurant that was filled with people dressed in floor-length dresses and shirts with ties and a blazer, it was the kind of place that you'd probably be asked to leave if you entered in jeans. I had to double check that I wasn't dressed in jeans or that my shirt wasn't tucked in before entering.

To say it was only midday, the place was packed with customers, there were very few tables free and hopefully I wouldn't be waiting long for dinner, otherwise I'm outa here.

The restaurant was a very upper class looking place, with tinted windows like what you find in limousines – which is probably the perfect setting for people watchers – in the background classical music was playing but I wasn't fussed because it was hard to hear it over the constant chatter of people.

"Good afternoon-" the girl before me was the person I least expected to see again, but here she was; Isobel Swain – well I think that's her name. "Sorry. Table for one, sir?" she said sounding slightly nervous.

"Please," I refused to make small talk with her in case she saw that as an invitation to ask questions and attempt to create a conversation with me. "I don't want one near any small children though, I'd rather eat my lunch in peace without having to listen to some brat screaming their fucking head off every five minutes because they've shit themselves or something," I said seriously. I've had one too many meals ruined by some little shit throwing spaghetti and spewing up everywhere.

"Certainly sir, I know just the table." She smiled, grabbing a menu from under the counter before leading me to my table. _So I may have previously given her a low score for her body, but fuck me sideways she has a nice ass to look at. I wonder what it would look like without that pencil skirt covering it. _

"Here you go," she said placing the menu down on a table by the window. I took a seat before picking up the menu to look at the meals available. "Can I get you anything to drink, sir?" she had obviously realised that I didn't want to hold a conversation with her, hence the formalities like _Sir_.

"I'll have a glass of ice cold San Pellegrino, please." I said absently, dismissing her with my hand as I looked at the menu. I was used to seeing the prices in the top ten, sometimes even three figures but here the prices where what some people would class as 'reasonably priced meals', to me they were cheap. But for once I shrugged of the price and selected the meal that I couldn't resist not buying; mushroom ravioli. It will never beat my mom's recipe, but it can certainly try.

I tried to work out who owned this place as I waited for what's-her-name to return to take my order. From where I was sat I could see her talking to a tall man with a moustache and black hair with tins of grey at the sides, he was dressed in a suit which I instantly recognized as the Armani suite from the 07' Spring collection. He looked a lot like what's-her-name, so I assumed he was her father and quite clearly the owner of this place. He looked at least forty-five, maybe even fifty years old.

My eyes shifted from the man, and over to the three women who had just walked through the entrance. One was a tall slim woman with blonde hair that reached half-way down her back and piercing blue eyes. The second one had jet black hair cut in a bob with rather large breasts and a curvy ass – the kind of woman you sleep with once and give a fake number. As for the last women, well she was a tall woman with a runway figure and platinum blonde hair. She was also the women I'd slept with three weeks prior to today. I couldn't remember her name, but then again I don't remember many people's names.

What's-her-name returned with my glass of water, before taking my order and rushing off to hand it to the chef. On her way back to the kitchens, she managed to trip over thin air and crash into a waiter who was holding two glasses of red wine in his hands. The red wine went straight down his crisp white shirt and the glasses smashed on the ground instantly. I could see her begin to panic and fuss over him by grabbing a glass of white wine and throwing that on his shirt, hoping that it would help the situation. It didn't, it just angered the waiter even more.

The man which I presumed was her father, came rushing over and hurried the waiter into the back before he started kicking off with her. He apologized to the customers before disappearing out of sight. She looked startled before she dropping my order on the counter for the chef before rushing back to sweep up the broken glass before somebody got hurt.

The food was amazing, which surprised me. The woman who I interviewed turned out to be called Isabella, I only found this out by checking her name badge, which I only stumbled up upon because I was admiring her breasts.

When I made it back to the office, it was almost half past two in the afternoon so I decided to take a nap on my desk. I pulled down the shutters on the windows that looked out onto the office before taking a nap, so people knew not to disturb me.

"Wake up son," was all I heard before I felt my body being shook back and forth roughly. I opened my eyes to be confronted by my father. "Don't take fucking naps at work; I don't pay you to take fucking naps." He grumbled seriously whilst removing his hands from my shoulders to sit in the leather chair before my desk.

"I was only taking a nap, resting my eyes." I said, running my hands thought my hair.

"If you hadn't been out last night fucking everything that moves, maybe you wouldn't be so tired." He argued angrily. "Anyways, I haven't come here to lecture you; I've come here to give you the two candidates I've selected for you to choose from. There's Amelia and Isabella. You're choice." He said handing me their resume.

Well I can vaguely remember Amelia, she was the one with the uneven teeth and small breasts, and she was also a stuck-up bitch. So she was out of the question. This left me with no other choice than Isabella.

"Isabella." I said handing the resume's back to my father. He nodded before screwing Amelia's resume up into a ball and throwing it in the waste bin.

"Well I'll go make a few phone calls and you best hurry up at get your ass downstairs, you're meeting starts in five minutes, and you know how Prada doesn't like to be kept waiting." He smiled before standing up and leaving.

_Isabella Swan, my new PA, let's hope she's not a complete frigid bitch. _

-/-/-/-

**Well there it is. What do you think of Edward? Yes ladies, he's a manwhore and who wouldn't want to bump into a very horny Edward in a nightclub somewhere? I know I wouldn't mind... don't worry, there will most definitely be more smut soon, I've just got to get all the characters the right place first. Sorry if the first chapter seems a little...boring/slow, I just needed to make sure you all knew what Edwards really like in this story. **

**Who wants to know what Carlisle's past was REALLY like, are there some skeletons waiting to be found in a few closets? Or maybe there's some unfinished business? But you'll never know unless you press the alert button to find out when I've updated again! **

**I know I've only introduced Edward, Bella, Rosalie and Carlisle, but soon they'll all be making an appearance, so don't worry, I haven't missed anybody out! **

**I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter and whether it's a good idea, so hit the review button! The more reviews, the more chance I'll update sooner! This means we'll be one step closer to the smut! **


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